Mistaken
by Wintry Leaves
Summary: Quinn was pulled into Middle-earth to reclaim Erebor and save the line of Durin because she had a special bloodline that said she was probably had special powers. Only... the Valar pulled the geeky Asian Quinn instead of the special Quinn with the special bloodline, and now Quinn has a sword that can't be used, on a Quest without powers. Hell if she wasn't going to try though.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The rain was pouring, less a gentle pitter-pat on the windows and more a furious thud-thud-thud of fat raindrops. The wind howled.

It was still only afternoon, and on any other day the sun would be blisteringly hot at this time. You wouldn't be able to tell it now, what with the sky shaded dark as if it was already night.

It was the perfect weather to not do homework in.

Quinn glared at the economics on her table. How about one does NOT explain the concepts behind interest rate monetary policy?

Fuck, but the class test is tomorrow.

She was going to fail it, and fail it bad. Dammit.

And next week was the other class test with the case study questions. Some people claimed CSQs were easier than essays, and they were "ez marks". Quinn was not some people.

 _Kill me now ;; –_ Quinnyneeds$$

 _You mean you haven't had the test yet? Lucky._ – sushilasagne

 _It's not too bad, I feel_ – fishhead Remora

 _Yes it actually is. U just t00 g00d_ – sushilasagne

 _me guys what do I need to study ;_;_ – Quinnyneeds$$

There was brief pause, then fishhead Remora began typing.

Quinn set her phone down and stared very hard at the wisdom soon-to-be unleashed by her friend.

If she can't conveniently die from being smote by lightning before the test, then she'll try to cram. A little bit, at least.

Lightning _please_. She'd like to not do the whole graduating exams shtick at the end of this year.

The windows burst open outwards with a screech. Quinn startled badly, swearing as she leapt up.

"What the fff–s?" She demanded, as rain soaked through her books and materials she'd left lying on the low shelf before the window.

Her arms, front, face, and spectacles became dripping wet in short order as she reached out to close the window.

Oh god, her poor schoolbag.

The wind fought against her, pulling the windows out when she was trying her damnedest to get a good grip and shut them in.

"Stop betraying me!" Quinn hissed at the glass. "Get closed!"

Then the world became white with a deafening explosion.

She was drifting, drifting, drifting. It was bright all around her—bright but not blindingly so, and warm. Warm was good. Wet was plain nasty.

 _Do you feel as if there is something lacking in your life?_

The voice came from somewhere all around, and it sounded like many people speaking at once, old and young, male and female. The question commanded a response.

 _Yes._

Gods, Quinn hoped that her life would not be an endless series of education from different sources for that diploma, bachelor, master, phD, second phD, and whatever phD holders do when they're old and grey. She wants adventure! Some spice in her life! Dragons! She really wants a dragon. Or even a pegasus. Anything.

 _If you are asked to risk your life, to fight and defend and die, against foes more ancient and greater than yourself, would you?_

Well, if it was for a good* (* to be defined as the situation sees fit) cause, and her death would actually do something instead of being a faint whisper among the eventual eight/nine/ten billion deaths… and if her death was fast and on her own terms… Well, it was hardly as if she was going to amount to much in life anyway.

 _Yes?_

 _Do you agree to partake in an adventure of a lifetime?_

 _Yes, I do._

The light vanished.

She was falling, falling, falling.

Then she woke up with a gasp.

Her ceiling was gone. Her room was gone. Someone had decided to plant a forest around her.

What the fuck?

Quinn checked herself—not naked, not injured, and not without a horrendous crick in her back. She staggered up in her casual home clothes—a shirt given in some event that was too ugly to be worn out and capris that were a size too small to wear out shamelessly—and cracked her back.

What kind of forest was this? Where was she? And who was the voice(s)?

She'd read books and fanfics (which were just as legitimate as published books, mind you) about people-transplantations like this, and now excitement was warring with wtf-is-going-on nerves within her. Quinn bounced lightly on her toes, glad that the ground was dry and not of squelching mud.

Where was she and how could she make sure that she bumps into the good guys?

Quinn squinted up at the sun, which was either in the east or in the west right now, before or after noon.

Yeah, no, that's not going to help.

Her decision to pick a direction and start walking was interrupted by hoofbeats.

Quinn spun around, trying to find the direction the horse was coming from. Her pulse picked up, and she looked around uselessly for somewhere to hide. There were only trees, and she didn't want to get splinters in her feet when she inevitably failed to climb them. These were also useless hiding trees, without the large roots of rain-trees she could lie between.

There's only one thing for it.

Quinn faced the direction where the hoofbeats were loudest, and took a deep shaky breath to try and calm her racing heart. It's the good guys it's the good guys it's the good guys please–


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The rider saw her first, perhaps, because they were already riding towards her when she stood her ground. They were on a black-coloured horse and clad in armour, which glinted under the patches of sunlight through the leaves.

Quinn held her breath as the rider approached, shaking on the spot with the urge to run.

"Hail!" The rider called, in a clear, sweet voice, and she exhaled heavily in relief.

Likely a good guy, but she'll be on guard anyway; Quinn knew her genres. It was a great start that he spoke English—or a language perceivable to be English, at least.

"Hail!" She echoed back, waving, and the rider slowed when he was near. His horse seemed to be well looked-after, with a glossy coat and shiny headdress. There were small streamers on it, like little flags of blue and gold that waved in the wind when the horse moved. The rider himself was also shining and dressed in blue and gold accented armour, with a gorgeous layered breastplate-thing and a long scabbard by his side. Quinn eyed his sword a little uneasily. It was definitely over a metre long, and she would never be able to outrun a horse. She couldn't even knee him in the crotch or kick his knees or do anything to hinder him and run.

"Did you just find yourself in these woods?" The rider asked, his voice unmuffled by his helm. "You are not of here, are you?"

Thank lord, someone who possibly knew something. Quinn nodded eagerly. "Do you know how I came here?"

"I will bring you to my father and he will explain everything to you, if you would consent to come with me?"

Quinn looked around. She could hardly just stay in the wild, right? It's unsafe. And it's not as if these people can't just find her again if she declined. As much as it went completely against her stranger danger senses, she hesitated.

"Will you let me come back if I want to leave?"

"I will send you to any Man settlements should you wish to leave afterwards," the rider said agreeably.

It's an interestingly specific choice of words: Man settlement. As opposed to elk settlements and women settlements? Well, what choice?

"Okay, okay. I'll go."

Quinn stared at the rider as he dismounted with a graceful swing of his legs.

"I will help you up," he said. "Do you know how to ride?"

"The zookeeper let the pony gallop a bit when I was on him?" Quinn said hesitantly. "And she only did it for me."

"I do not know what is a zookeeper, but you must have been worthy of the opportunity," the rider said, and Quinn would accuse him of being patronising and mocking if he didn't sound so gentle.

She really did want to try and ride a horse, though, so she turned to the rider, smiled as endearingly as she could manage, and said, "Can you teach me how to do–" a gesture at the saddleless horse "–it?"

The rider nodded. "May I lift you?"

"Okay."

His hands wrapped around her waist (no lower, no higher), and Quinn found herself easily raised to the height of the horse's back, which'd been previously near her shoulder. His arms were gentle, and the metal of his armour was just cool through her shirt.

She swung a leg clumsily to the other side of the horse and settled on its back with a slight whumpf when the rider released her. "I'm sorry!"

"It is alright, Ithilum has borne heavier loads than you," was the response, and she felt him push himself up and settle behind her.

There was none of the dip she expected, and Ithilum was steady throughout. Quinn stiffened at the feel of his armour at her back, running her fingers in little circles on the mare's neck and mane. The rider twisted and then she heard a whistle, lilting and fluting like a bird's cry. There was an answering call, and the rider shifted, leaning forward a little.

"My brother and I were sent out to look for you," he said. "I told him I have found you."

"Who are you?" Quinn asked, regretting that she hadn't asked him that before being completely at his mercy.

"I am Elladan and my brother is Elrohir. My father is Lord Elrond of Imladris, which is known in the Common Tongue as Rivendell."

Quinn twisted around so fast she cracked her back again. "You are Elladan? Elladan Peredhel? Grandson of Lady Galadriel and also Eärendil?"

"Yes," he said, a little bemused as he looked down at her through his helm. "You know of me?"

"I am a big fan of you, your brother, your parents, and your grandparents. But mostly of your dad. And Lady Galadriel. Holy s–"

Quinn cut herself off before she swore in front of a living breathing real Noldo Elf of Middle-earth.

Middle-earth. Thank you gods, goddesses, deities, divine entities, the Great Pumpkin, Aslan, Eru, and Valar for this opportunity. Holy _holy_ —Quinn squeed silently in her head, biting down hard on her lip in case she slipped up and began shrieking like a madman in front of The Elladan.

"I'm, uh, Q-Quinn," she stuttered, cursing her idiot tongue for failing her at this moment. "Pleased nice to meet you!"

Quinn winced. Thanks, people-anxiety, didn't miss you at all.

Elladan chuckled. "Whatever is your choice, it has been pleasant to know you. Thank you for accepting the call."

Call? Well, the voices (of possibly the Valar) had been polite and she had said yes to all of it.

"I'd accept another hundred calls to Middle-earth," Quinn said with a little laugh. "I can't believe I'm here."

It felt incredibly dream-like to cross the forest on a gorgeous mare with a veritable Elven Prince (of sorts). The journey wasn't bumpy as Quinn expected, but a sort of a smooth rocking gait that was surprisingly comfortable. Still, her thighs felt awkwardly stretched across the mare's back, and she ended up awkwardly kicking Elladan once or twice or thrice when she tried to position her legs right.

Another rider met with them after a short while, also on a black horse and armoured in blue and gold-lined armour.

"Elrohir," Elladan murmured. "We are reaching Imladris soon."

Quinn leaned forward and waved to Elrohir, who dipped his head in response.

Soon, as Elladan said, they were riding down a cliff-carved path, into the valley that gave Rivendell its name.

"Is that the Ford?" Quinn asked, trying and failing to straighten up to see over Ithilum's head.

"Indeed. Father protects the land on its other bank, so we will be absolutely safe once we have crossed it."

A chill ran down her spine.

"Was I in danger just now?"

Elladan paused. "There are few orc packs who dare roam so close to our borders, but had they heard or known of your arrival they would come in merciless swarms."

Quinn shivered. "Thanks for finding me. First."

She had more questions, too. She couldn't wait to meet _The_ Lord Elrond.

The river was calm, a shallow presence as the horses passed. It was nothing like the flood mentioned in the books, and Quinn had difficulties imagine it becoming deep enough to drown several Nazgûl horses.

They passed through another forest path, and Quinn felt her jaw drop as the city came into view.

Rivendell was, simply, gorgeous. White columns gleamed pale gold in the sun and the red roofs seemed as if alit with a gentle glow, while the towers glinted as if they were set with sapphires instead of mere tiles. And the waterfalls… They stream from maws of dragons etched on the roofs, falling down into the valley where the water became a mist of sparkling crystals that turned sunlight into rainbows.

There was a trumpet that sounded when they approached, and Quinn stared as the twins stopped their horses at the very place the Company had been in the Hobbit. There was an honest-to-god Elf on the stairs in regal blue robes, with a simple silver circlet that was somehow more kingly on him than the British Royal Crown could ever hope to be. (No offence meant to the English monarch.)

"Father! We have done as you said," Elrohir said, leaping off his horse. He came over, arm raised, and Quinn accepted his (and Elladan's) help in getting off Ithilum.

"This is Quinn," Elladan said, with a series of soft chinking noises that indicated his dismount. "Quinn, this is my father, Lord Elrond of Imladris."

Quinn stared. And stared some more. The movies had tried their best, but they fell short of perfection. The _elfness_ was a little hard to capture.

Then she realised she was staring really rudely, and promptly bowed very deeply. "Hi sir."

 _Sir?_ Quinn winced at herself. _Hi?_

When she straightened, Elrond was smiling at her (and she was not worthy of it, _wow_ ). She glanced beside her to escape his too gentle, too piercing gaze, only to find that the twins had removed their helmets, and, and, and, _hot damn_.

Elladan smiled. Quinn promptly stared at the floor and examined the grey veins running through the marble floor. Those at her (very bare) feet formed a pattern that resembled the head of a very messy brush or a tree that was struck multiple times by lightning.

Elrohir said something to Elrond in presumably Sindarin, and then Elrond said, in understandable Westron, "Welcome to Rivendell and Middle-earth, Quinn. I understand that you have questions, and I will do my best to answer all of them. Please, follow me."

Quinn glanced around, but Elladan only inclined his head towards Elrond with a faint smile. Taking a deep breath, she moved up the stairs. Elrond turned, gliding up the stairs as if it was an escalator beneath his feet instead. Quinn attempted to copy that smoothness, but she only managed a less bouncy walk than her usual gait.

The great gods above couldn't have turned her into an elf when they brought her over? It can't be _that_ hard compared to world-travel, right? A little hocus-pocus transfiguration or something, and she'd get physical perfection.

The corridors all looked too similar for Quinn to distinguish, but she was fairly sure she knew the direction of the city entrance even after a few twists and turns. The city was as beautiful inside as it looked on the outside, and Quinn would definitely migrate here if she could.

Elrond's pace was slow enough for Quinn to walk at a comfortable pace, though with his height that was a full head taller than her, she had no doubt that he was capable of zooming down the corridor whilst still walking. Her brother was like that too.

"This may be a little shocking," he said suddenly, and Quinn turned to face him instantly.

"Oh no, no. It's alright. I just never expected to…" She waved at the view outside the corridor. " _Be_ here. In Middle-earth. I've wished for it so many times, even just for a glimpse of Gondolin or something in my dreams, but like y'know, these things only happen in stories."

Then she stopped, cheeks burning, because why'd she mention Gondolin for? The city was long destroyed by now and it couldn't be a good memory for elves because of the Balrogs and everything.

Elrond nodded slowly. "This is real, I assure you."

"I know! My imagination isn't capable of conjuring such–" Quinn clamped her mouth shut before she could say " _such gorgeousness_ " because those were _his sons_ and _his city_ and _his person_ and she didn't need to fangirl in front of _The_ Lord Elrond. Her face felt like it was radiating heat better than the heater at home, seriously, why, face please stop being a giveaway.

When he was sure that Quinn was not going to complete her sentence, Elrond spoke again. "You are not called to Middle-earth without reason. There is a task appointed for you, and it is your decision if you will see it through."

"What is it?" Quinn asked. She had a destiny? That was astounding. Special things never happened to her, despite seven years of birthday wishes since she read Harry Potter and never got a Hogwarts letter. Quinn was used to not being the protagonist of any story, just at best the comedic sidekick or the token Asian representative.

"To prevent the fall of Erebor and the eradication of the line of Durin through Thorin Oakenshield."

Impossible.

"What's the year?"

"It is March of the year 2941 of the Third Age." Elrond raised an eyebrow.

That sounded like it was around fifty years before 3018, which made sense. Still, why was she needed?

"Didn't everything turn out alright?" Quinn asked. "Erebor was reclaimed, Smaug was slain, and Dáin–"

Alright, Thorin died, so did Fíli and Kíli. That had been really tragic. And Smaug had taken out a good portion of Laketown while he'd been at it. And there was the whole battle thing.

But still–

"What can I do? I'm me! I'm one person, I don't have magic, I can't fight, I don't know any of the main players of the Erebor Quest, I can't influence them to stop?" Quinn paused at the look on Elrond's face. "Unless being here has given me some cool magic? I'm creative, I can think of applications for most superpowers, that could work?"

Elrond's hand landed on her shoulder, and she inhaled deeply, thinking very hard about _calm_.

"You are chosen for a reason. Your lineage holds great power in Middle-earth, and that same blood flows in you. The House of Hador is well-known in Middle-earth for their deeds in the First Age. Less known is that in the War of Wrath, a son of the House, Fandir, fought bravely and sacrificed himself to save a Maia of the Host of the Valar. The Maia pled before the Valar for Fandir's sake, and he was transported to another world in order to save his life."

Quinn stared.

"You mean Fandir was one of my ancestors?"

Elrond nodded as he pushed open a door, and Quinn stepped in before him into a study room, complete with a resplendent wooden table in the centre.

"To keep him alive, the Maia shared with Fandir the Music of the Ainur, and it gifted him with untold abilities."

Quinn had a really cool ancestral backstory. Quinn had the blood of angels. Quinn might faint.

"Cool. I thought my ancestors were all farmers or something," she said weakly. "Like rice farmers or barley farmers or cabbage farmers or _something_."

"They may be such in your world, but here the line of Fandir is honoured." Elrond smiled kindly. "You may take a moment. It is no doubt surprising to suddenly learn of one's heritage."

Quinn took a moment to get a grip on herself. "So why me? Why not my parents or my grandparents or my brother?"

"I do not fully comprehend the will of the Valar," Elrond said, which was fair enough. "But they have chosen you, and the choice is yours to do as you wish."

Okay, she had some secret power. That'll be useful. She… probably won't die, since the Company was unharmed save for the heirs of Durin. Probably. Hopefully. It would be one spectacular way to go, though, killed in action in another world.

"What happens when the quest is over?" Quinn asked suspiciously. "Will I be thrown back to my own world? Can I stay in Middle-earth? If I do go back can I return to Middle-earth?"

"It is not for me to say," Elrond said. "Those in the West will decide your fate. I know them to be fair; they will not discard you once the quest is over."

Quinn raised her eyes skyward. If there are any Valar listening, please please know that she would like to remain in Middle-earth but be able to return to her world. She was greedy and wanted the best of both worlds, yes, but let it not be said that Quinn was not going to fight for her dreams. _Figuratively only_! She definitely was not going to win against Tulkas or Oromë or anyone, really.

"I will do my best to save the line of Durin and reclaim Erebor," she said, hoping she sounded more sure than she felt, which was sure as hell not.

* * *

 **Fandir: son of Brandir, who was slain by Túrin because he told the truth i.e. that the woman Túrin married was actually Niënor, his sister.**

 **House of Hador: a house of Edain who were known for being tall, blond, and blue-eyed, and which produced Húrin and Túrin.**

 **3018: the year the Fellowship was formed. 3019: the year the Ring was destroyed.**


End file.
